This afternoon the giant husband and I did some weekend running around. On the way home, we passed by a lovely old, shingle-sided church.
By appearances, it hadn’t held a congregation in quite some time. The front door was locked and bolted – a sad sight for a house where one is supposed to find solace and prayer. The building might even be for sale – sadder still…
Adjoining this historic structure was an old graveyard.
Many of the stones, some going back to the 1700’s, had served hard time. Some had sprouted lichens.
Still others surfaces were so worn the names and dates were no longer readable.
Some stones rested on one another for support, clinging to the last vestiges of their earthen anchors.
There was a beautiful tree, its powerful branches watching over and protecting its wards.
It continues cherishing thousands of secrets and keeping whispers safe.
Over the years, I’ve passed by many houses of worship. Their doors locked when services are not underway. I’ve passed by ancient cemeteries too, some a bit neglected.
In times of real need, we alone must bow our heads to dream of hope, pray for peace and hold onto our loved ones as long as possible on this earth…
This post is dedicated to Phyllis Rose who lost her battle with cancer on Friday night. My mom told me of Phyllis’s passing. She was 53. I hadn’t seen Phyllis Rose since I was in my teens. On Friday night, I was worrying about getting the grocery shopping done…life is…
Thank you and goodnight. May your dreams be peaceful and your wishes all come true…
(Sketched the day of this post. This is my handsome nephew, VW. Image inspired by my sister Dolores’s photo)